


Growing Up Paige

by Amadi



Series: Paige/Luke Whedon Series [1]
Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, Gen, Queer Themes, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amadi/pseuds/Amadi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from the life of a Walker family grandchild.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up Paige

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to [Not Paige, Please](http://archiveofourown.org/works/42100).
> 
> Thank you to [](http://jackandahat.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**jackandahat**](http://jackandahat.dreamwidth.org/) for beta.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Paige and all of the extended Brothers &amp; Sisters family members are the creations of Jon Robin Baitz and property of Jon Robin Baitz, Greg Berlanti, Berlanti Television, After Portsmouth and ABC Studios. No claim of ownership or control is implied via this work of fan fiction.

January, 2004

"No, mommy, I'm not wearing it," Paige insists. "I'm not. I hate it!" The dress, very frilly and very yellow, is Sarah's choice of outfit for Paige's sixth birthday dinner at Grandma and Grandpa Walker's house, and Paige has never seen anything so awful. "I don't want to wear a dress."

Sarah sighs and scrubs at her face. They've been going around and around on this for more than twenty minutes. "Fine, Paige, fine, have it your way. But you're not wearing blue jeans or shorts. Find something nice to wear that you like. Go ahead." Sarah opens Paige's closet door and stands back. "You have ten minutes to pick something and get dressed. I have to go get your brother." As if on cue, Cooper begins to cry in his crib.

Paige reaches for a pair of khaki pants and a blue t-shirt. It has a bow on the neckline, but it's still better than any stupid ruffled yellow dress. She takes the hated garment and stuffs it back in a corner of the closet, hoping to never see it again.

When she arrives at the party, Grandpa calls from the backyard "Is that my Paige?" and she can take off to play with him in the backyard, throwing a ball back and forth with him and Uncle Tommy, ignoring everyone else who is gathered to celebrate until it's time to sit down to eat. It's a perfect birthday.

~

August, 2007

"I promise that you won't lose out on time with your dad, no matter what, Paige," Sarah vows, though she knows that really, it's beyond her control. She glances back at her daughter before pulling away from the stop sign, trying to get a read on her expression. They keep having these conversations in the car, all of these important moments of life reduced to on-the-go discussions between school and the sitter, school and dance class, home and the gym, home and Grandma's. Since Joe left, it's more important than ever for Sarah to have meaningful time with Paige and Cooper, and, in the nastiest of ironies, infinitely harder to actually make that happen.

"You can keep taking gymnastics and dance." It's two long evenings during the week and several hours every Saturday morning, but Sarah's committed to making the schedule work, even as she faces the heartbreak of arranging visitation, splitting her children's time between her and their father. "We'll work it out so that you don't get cheated on your hours. Cooper can be with Daddy when you're in class during Daddy's time, then you can be with Daddy when Cooper's at karate and speech therapy." It's all a juggling act in Sarah's mind and making _that_ promise work will mean two or three more balls in the air on any given afternoon, but it's what she has to do.

"But Mommy, I don't _want_ to take gymnastics any more." Paige shakes her head vehemently, trying to move enough that her mother can see her even as she navigates through traffic. "No more ballet either. They're not fun any more. I only like tap and jazz." Tap and jazz, where she could wear pants, not just a leotard. Tap and jazz, where she didn't have to fuss with her hair or get called out for not being graceful enough. Tap and jazz, where she didn't have anyone fussing over her posture, or clucking at the bruises she got, claiming that she played too rough. "It's not about having time with Daddy. I just don't want to do them any more."

"Are you sure, honey?" It'd be a load off of Sarah's mind if Paige really wants out of six hours of weekly commitments (not counting transportation time). "You know if you quit and want to go back, you won't be in classes with your friends because they'll move ahead while you're gone."

"I know. I really, really, really want to just do tap and jazz, Mommy." Are three "reallys" enough?

"Okay then, sweetheart. You'll just do tap and jazz. I'll call the dance studio and the gym when we get home."

~

 

September, 2010

"I really want them." Paige stands outside the shop at the Galleria with her best friend, looking longingly at the shoes that would use up her allowance from now until Christmas, even though they're on clearance for 50% off. They're Gwen Stefani L.A.M.B. sandals with 4 inch heels.

"My mom would kill me!" Liz exclaims, looking for something more in her price range and in a style that won't cause parental coronaries.

Paige nods. "Mine too, but Liiiiiz, they're perfect!" Perfect for asserting herself, perfect for strutting around at school and the mall, perfect for making everyone look at her, especially paired with the almost frighteningly short flowered skirt she just nabbed on clearance at Abercrombie. "I want them. We should buy them together." It would get around the money problem, and they could hide them in Liz's backyard playhouse, an artifact of their younger years, now quite suitable as a place of adolescent refuge rather than little girls' tea parties. "We can put them in the red box." The red box was just a plastic tote, intended to hold holiday decorations, but appropriated by two little girls as their Box of Secrets. And though they've outgrown dolls and jump rope, they still had their secrets.

Liz bites her lip, unsure, but then looks at Paige. Paige is always so damned persuasive, even without saying a word. Just the look on her face makes it clear that she _will_ get her way, and her way is to get those shoes. "How much do you have?" Liz plunks herself down on the floor, pulling her wallet out of her backpack, getting ready to count her money.

Paige does the mental math. "I have enough. Just enough." She'll be eating 50 cent hard-boiled eggs for lunch in the cafeteria for a couple of weeks, but it's a worthy sacrifice. Maybe she can finagle $20 out of Grandma this weekend by skimming her pool and weeding her flowerbeds.

She can see herself in the shoes already. She fishes her money out of the pocket of her tiny shorts. Score.

~

July, 2013

Uncle Kevin has always been Paige's favorite. From the time she was small, they had an affinity. He taught her how to play catch with a tennis ball, back when she was so small she didn't really even understand what "keep your eye on the ball, Paigey" really meant. Even after Cooper was around, then Evan and Robbie, the relationship between Paige and Kevin was special. He's her uncle, but he's also her confidant and friend.

So it's with Kevin that Paige first raises a topic that is sticking in her craw in the worst way. He's driving her home from a movie, the third _Star Trek_ sequel (much better than the second) and in a brief lull in the conversation, sitting at a red light in the middle of Pasadena, Paige just pipes up with the worst question she's ever had to ask in her life.

"Uncle Kevin, how did you know that you're gay?"

Kevin, to his credit, does not freak. He slowly turns and looks at Paige. But he doesn't speak. He just keeps looking, until the light changes and the car behind them honks angrily. He takes off, but still doesn't speak.

Paige wants to shrink in her skin and hide. It takes a few minutes until she realizes that they're heading toward Uncle Kevin's house and not her own. Kevin pulls into the garage and climbs out of the car, gesturing for her to follow. Uncle Scotty's car isn't there, but it isn't unusual for him to be at the restaurant until all hours.

"Come on, Paige, lets go talk inside. You want ice cream?"

And so over bowls of Cherry Garcia, Kevin explains to Paige what made him aware of himself, and in turn, listens to her. And is the first person to whom Paige ever says the words "I'm a lesbian."

Kevin, to his credit, doesn't tell a soul. The next time the Walker family phone tree is activated, he keeps it to himself. It isn't his secret to tell, and though there had been a million times when that was true in the past and he told anyway, this time, he keeps Paige's confidence. He never tells a soul that she came out to him before anyone else in the world.

Nor does he ever tell a soul, not even years later, that he has doubts about it all along.

~

May, 2014

"And the Muir High School Mighty Mustang Sportsperson of the Year is..." Paige closes her eyes as Principal Greene opens the envelope. The sports banquet is the highlight of the end of the school year for Paige and she knows that she has an excellent chance of hearing her name called. And she does. "Paige Whedon! Paige, come on up and collect your trophy!"

As Paige makes her way up to the podium at the front of the rented ballroom at the Hilton, she hears Bryan Sims growl at her as she passes. "Damned dyke!" Bryan was the MVP of the football team, and believed that the trophy should be his, and it's not the first time he's tossed that epithet at Paige, and won't be the last. It's a near daily occurrence that she's just had to learn to live with. She ignores him, striding smoothly to the front of the room, no sky-high heels now, just sensible black loafers to go with her black pantsuit.

"Paige, for those of you who don't follow our female teams," the principal lectures, sounding _very_ sarcastic, challenging the crowd to recognize that there are sports besides football and baseball, "is the first sophomore to win the league scoring championship in girls' basketball." She smiles and puts an arm around Paige's shoulders. "_And_, the first sophomore to win the league scoring championship in girls' soccer. And the first young lady from Muir to win either, and the first young lady in the league to win more than one scoring championship in one year. She also received a varsity letter as the third-ranked player on our girls' tennis team, and she only picked up a racquet for the first time last summer."

Paige blushes but smiles broadly. She knows she kicks ass in sports and deserves the trophy. Sports are the one place where questions aren't asked, so long as she goes out and does her best, she can be whoever she wants to be. And tonight, she gets to be something special: the best. No qualifiers, no segregation, not the best _girl_, just the best.

Principal Greene hands over the huge trophy. The assembled crowd rises to give a standing ovation. Not one for many words, Paige steps behind the microphone and simply says: "I worked as hard as I could, and did my best. Thank you for recognizing that." Gripping her honor tightly, she makes her way back to her table, where soccer and basketball teams are commingled, waiting to give her the hugs and kisses that make her squirm, but she grits her teeth and bears it, keeping her eye on her prize, deciding that the moments of discomfort are well worth it.

~

Friday, April 24, 2015

"Have you decided?" Liz is sitting cross-legged, framed in one of the windows of the little playhouse and facing Paige, who is no longer Paige, but Luke, short spiky haired and rugby shirted Luke.

That revelation wasn't taken well by Liz at first and there was a silence between them for nearly a week. It was weird, awkward and sad. They'd been best friends since kindergarten. Silence between them was unheard of. But Liz, to her great credit, used that time to do some research. And finally she slipped a note through the vents of Luke's locker.

"I'm sorry. I wish I'd understood when you told me, but I checked out some stuff now and I get it. You're Luke, but you're still the person I've always known and I still love you."

That was right after Thanksgiving break, and shortly afterward, Liz helped Luke explain what was going on to their closest circle of friends, and all of them got it. Everyone at their own pace, and it took some of them longer than others, but by the time the basketball season started in February, they had all reached a level of acceptance and support that blew Luke away. He has the best friends ever. He is sure of it.

His family is another story. He knows he has to tell them that he is _not Paige_. Living every day with the secret is becoming harder, nearly unbearable. His mother had flipped at his haircut, and was starting to make more and more grumbling noises about his wardrobe. As much as she's claimed that she's accepted that her _daughter_ is a lesbian, her daughter as a butch lesbian seems to be beyond her. Her daughter as an entity that no longer exists is going to tear her apart.

But living with this huge secret day after day is tearing Luke apart, and it's time to fix that. He nods at Liz, sitting as a mirror image across from her in the little plastic shelter. They're both far too big to really be in the space comfortably, can't really move there or do anything bit make themselves as small as they can while they sit and talk.

"Yeah, I decided. Family dinner at Grandma's tomorrow night. I'm gonna do it then. Unless someone else beats me to the punch first." Big announcements at Walker Family Dinners were de rigeur. Who knows who might one-up Luke and make him wait another month?

Liz nods. "Want me to come with?" She's been a guest at a few of these events, all but one quite low key. She's ready to brave the rigors of Luke's aunts and uncles in order to offer him support.

"Nah, it'll be cool. Maybe be around tomorrow night if I need to talk?" Luke shrugs, he doesn't expect it to be pretty. It's going to be loud and messy, in fact, he knows that. He's spent 17 years seeing how it goes.

"I'll be here," Liz promises, leaning to take Luke's hand. "Call or ping or whatever. I'll come get you if you need to get out of there, too. Just say the word."

Squeezing Liz's fingers, that simple reassurance is all Luke needs to feel like he can make it through this challenge, one way or another.


End file.
